


5 Times Someone Stopped Virgil From Self-Harming and 1 Time He Stopped Himself

by starstruck_xavier



Series: Xavier's College AU [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Artist Remus, Artist Virgil, Blood, Bruises, But not that much, College AU, Crying, Cutting, Dancing, Disordered Eating, Food, Food mention, Light Swearing, M/M, One swear, Play-fighting, Queerplatonic Moxiety - Freeform, Self-Harm, Spanish Dialogue, Virgil has Anxiety, a lil bit of self deprecation, a lot of it in different ways-, all ships are platonic except moxiety is queerplatonic, attempt at an all nighter by virgil lol, brief mentions of alcohol, discussion and mention of cutting, exercise, it gets fluffy right at the end, light fluff, logan can speak spanish, mechanical spiders, rated teen just in case, two of my ocs have very very minor passing roles-, virgil can speak spanish, will add tags with updated chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25895014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck_xavier/pseuds/starstruck_xavier
Summary: As the title says!(will be posting a new chapter every day until all six are up)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Xavier's College AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879141
Comments: 35
Kudos: 138





	1. Logan

**Author's Note:**

> obvious tw for self-harming, pls stay safe out there <33
> 
> also on my tumblr (starstruck-xavier) and my wattpad (starstruck_xavier)
> 
> if you're unsure of what the spanish dialogue means, there'll be translations in the end notes. i'm learning the language right now so if there was any better way i could've written that dialogue pls pls let me know!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17/08/20 update: i learned about hover boxes for translations so i've added that now! if you're on desktop, hover your mouse over the spanish dialogue to see its english translations.

Their Spanish professor is late again.

It doesn’t matter too much, since most of the students just turn up to class and continue to work on what they’d started yesterday, quietly talking to each other in Spanish for fluency practice, but Logan had wanted to ask the professor about extra credit work. Oh well, he can always email her later.

He selects a galaxy-print pen out of the many, many items of stationery that can barely fit in his pencil case and glances over at Virgil as he sits in the seat next to him with a very brief smile of greeting. It’s so brief that Logan barely notices, his gaze lingering a little longer as he tries to decipher if something’s wrong. There’s an ever-so-slight tremor to Virgil’s hands and he flips through his Spanish folder with a series of papery sounds in his rush to get started as soon as possible, but apart from that, he seems fairly okay.

Logan doesn’t get much time to think about it before a familiar face approaches him.

"Hey, Logan, you know about the subjunctive tense, right?” She speaks smoothly through dark purple lips and gently sets a notebook on the corner of the table, tapping her pencil against the lined page.

Logan smiles just a little. While the ebony-haired girl often needs these things explaining to her more than a couple of times, she always listens and takes pride in herself when she finally understands. She has a nice attitude to learning.

"Greetings, Daphne. What is it that you want to know?”

Meanwhile, Virgil’s still thinking about the small scare he’d received earlier as he fishes a pencil sharpener out of one of his pockets to sharpen a dull pencil. He was thinking of telling Logan about it, but a small part of his brain insists, what if Logan thinks it’s dumb? Of course, he’s never reacted that way before and has always been supportive of him through his spikes of anxiety, but the idea of a different emotional relief springs to mind as he watches the sharpener blade cut away at the rotating pencil.

There’s a coin in one of his other pockets, a tiny five pence piece from Britain that he’d found in town somewhere despite being in Florida. When he showed it to Patton, he was told to keep it, that it might be lucky! The excited words bounce around inside his skull, making him hesitate, but the urge only grows stronger the more he thinks about it, like an itch. It’s almost second nature to give into it.

There’s a few tiny sounds of scraping metal as he fidgets with fitting the coin into one of the screw’s grooves - it is rather tiny, which is understandable for such a small device, but Virgil can’t help but ask himself why it’s so difficult to dismantle it. This goes on for some time, and just when he thinks he has a good hold on his plan, he feels a light tapping on his shoulder.

“ _¿Puedo usar tu sacapuntas, por favor?_ ” Logan’s now turned to face him; it seems Daphne has gone to sit in her regular seat again with her little group of friends. Virgil looks down at his sharpener, pauses for a second, then sighs pensively.

“ _Sí._ ” He hands it over and pockets the silver coin. “ _¿No tienes el tuyo?_ ”

It starts to occur to Virgil that Logan was looking for an excuse to take the pencil sharpener from him, now seemingly looking through his mountainous collection of pencils for one that looks a little dull. “ _No, lo perdí. Pienso que Roman lo robó._ ” He says fluently, a smirk playing at his lips, though it’s a little softened around the edges. After Logan finishes with the item in question, Virgil tries to reach for it, but it’s quickly moved to the hand furthest from the shorter man, out of his grasp. "I saw what you were trying to do with it, Virgil.”

Virgil groans. "Give it back, Logan.”

"Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Another sigh, some more hesitation, then Virgil folds his arms onto the table with defeat. "It’s kinda dumb. I was walking here after getting something to eat downtown and some sports car owning dumbass sped past down the road and the sound scared me real bad, and then I noticed he just ran the red light where I was about to cross the street. I managed to calm down for the most part, but…” He grimaces and starts to fidget as he recalls the event.

Logan frowns. "Would you like a hug?” He sets the sharpener down on his side of the table and quickly catches Virgil in a shaky embrace. "Feeling anxious after such an event is completely understandable. I'm surprised you still came to class after that.” At least the sound of Virgil’s nervous, hummed laugh brings ease to the immediate upset and concern that had filled Logan upon hearing the story. "It’s all okay now. You’re safe.” He strokes Virgil’s hair, feeling his friend relax against him. "Wanna walk back to the dorms after this?”

“ _Definitivamente._ ” Virgil pulls away, looking a little teary eyed but with his smile reaching his eyes this time. “ _Necesito dormir._ ”

They would then leave a little earlier than everyone else, having not done much of the work at all, but the professor still hasn’t shown up, so Logan’s not too bothered about putting off some conjugation practice until later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish dialogue translations for chapter 1
> 
> "¿Puedo usar tu sacapuntas, por favor?" - "Can I use your sharpener, please?"
> 
> “Sí. ¿No tienes el tuyo?” - "Yes. You don't have yours?"
> 
> "No, lo perdí. Pienso que Roman lo robó.” - "No, I lost it. I think Roman stole it."
> 
> “Definitivamente. Necesito dormir.” - “Definitely. I need to sleep.”
> 
> (tysm to the user who suggested the edit to the dialogue, i’ve changed up the text <33)


	2. Roman

Roman was surprised at first when he found out that Virgil’s also taking dance as his minor. Then, he got to see just how amazing his contemporary skills are - for someone who sings screamo in the shower when he thinks he’s the only one home and wears his makeup like it’s 2012, his friends had thought that he’d be more into the hard popping style that Logan’s into. Though, while Virgil can keep up with Logan, he has to admit he’s not as good at those precise movements and incredible body control and it leaves him tired out or sore after just a couple of routines, watching from a corner as his friend only takes a quick drink of water and goes right into the next one.

But when it comes to contemporary dance, soft and whimsy, Virgil doesn’t know when to stop.

He’ll only stop when someone makes him, when he uses up all the energy he has left or when he injures himself, and all three are somewhat unfavourable. What if he’s alone when he starts to go into a downward spiral of continuing to practice with no breaks until he gets hurt? Collapsing onto the varnished wooden floor is never a comfortable experience, even if there’s someone to immediately pick him up and take him away, and everyone remembers the time he broke his ankle and cried every day until he could exercise again.

They’d all rather prevent that from happening again.

"It’s time we get going, stormcloud.” Roman already has his and Virgil’s things in their respective bags, but looks over to see Virgil still going through the particularly difficult moves; he’d call the dance and the way he executes it absolutely mesmerising if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been doing this non-stop for nearly thirty minutes. "C’mon, Virge.” He walks over and wraps his arms around Virgil’s waist from behind just as he pauses the movements to catch his breath.

“Roman, I'm not done yet.” Virgil whines and tries to push away, but his exhaustion has him unable to fight Roman’s strong arms, and after a few seconds of struggling he gives up.

“I'm not gonna let you hurt yourself again.” Pulling Virgil over to the corner of the dance studio, Roman sits on the floor with him and hands him a water bottle. "Your dance is already as perfected as can be. Why do you keep striving for what you’ve already achieved?”

After draining the bottle of its contents, Virgil leans back against the wall and sighs. "That’s the thing, it’s not the best I can do yet. I don’t wanna get everything wrong when I have to perform it in front of everybody. You saw what happened the first time.”

And Roman did see what happened the first time. It was a classic case of stage fright that devolved into a panic attack that Roman and Logan had eventually managed to bring Virgil out of, but even after that he was still so shaken, repeating phrases of self-deprecation, _I can’t do this, I'm a failure, I never should’ve tried to pursue dance_. He didn’t even want to go to class again the next day, but after some convincing he’d walked in to be told that he can try to perform again when he’s not being watched by thirteen other pairs of eyes. With only the dance teacher, Logan and Roman watching, Virgil performed beautifully. He scored in the top three for the whole class!

"You scored in the top three for the whole class.” Roman smiles, a look of pride in his eyes. "No one blamed you for getting nervous when you had to do it the first time, but no one doubts your talent. We’ve all seen you rehearse with us, and y’know what other people tell me?” Virgil finally meets Roman’s eyes, looking curious now, so Roman continues. “Melody says that she wishes she could dance like you do. That your movements are as fluid as water, that you’re so dedicated but you seem really hard on yourself, and that you don’t need to be. By graduation, you’re going to be one of the best dancers this college has ever had.”

Melody. Sweet, sweet Melody. "Oh, wow.” Virgil responds quietly. "But Melody’s so much better than me! She’s so expressive, she adds her own spin to each routine.”

"Everyone has their own skills and flaws when it comes to dancing. It gives us character. If you think that you need to work on facial expressions, that’s something you can work on, but you mustn’t ignore the best aspects of your dancing style whilst wishing you had those of somebody else.”

A silence settles over them both as Roman shuffles closer to Virgil and drapes one arm around his shoulders. They stay like that for a minute or so, leaning into each other, Virgil thinking over what he said.

But alas, Roman checks his watch again and sees that they’re both long overdue to return home for the night. He removes his arm from Virgil’s back so he can stand and pulls Virgil up by his hands too. "Let’s take a break from dancing tomorrow, okay? Just one day.”

Virgil seems reluctant to agree as they both pick up their bags and leave the studio. "Why? We’ve got a performance next week, we need to rehearse as much as we can.”

"That’s right, we do.” There’s a short silence, confusion from Virgil’s side as Roman gives him a sad smile. "But you can’t rehearse too much. We’ve agreed that you need to stop hurting yourself by pushing past your physical capabilities. You don’t even have to stop all exercise - we can still hit the track field tomorrow, just take it easy. How does that sound?”

Even with the slight shake to his legs after so much physical exertion, even with the sweat sticking his clothes to his body, even with the slight pain he feels in his arm that’s been softly pounding ever since he moved it a little too suddenly during his routine, Virgil feels like he still has improvements to make, flaws to eliminate. But, with Roman’s caring gaze meeting his, he listens to the offer.

It doesn’t sound so bad to miss one day.


	3. Patton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hints towards disordered eating in this chapter, as well as food mention. again, take care of yourselves n stay safe <33

It’s a little bittersweet today to see Virgil putting his all into the timed laps on the track field. Bittersweet, as in, the previous day he’d been quite down and unmotivated while today he’s energised and ready to challenge Roman to some relays, but Patton knows that he’s trying to run on empty again.

The evidence is in how Virgil had nothing but a granola bar for breakfast, then turned down Patton’s offer for lunch because he had an art project to start planning. Even now, as Patton sits down in the grass a few meters away from the track in the afternoon sun, he can see the fatigue in Virgil’s movements and how he’s actually a little further behind Roman than usual. He’s sure that, with something more than just a snack, his partner really could beat Roman’s time.

He continues to observe as Roman slows down a little just to run alongside him, telling, or maybe asking him something then raising an eyebrow as Virgil makes some dismissive hand-wave gesture and starts to sprint faster. He eventually finishes before Roman (by throwing himself across the finish line - Patton can hear Roman exclaiming, ‘Hey, this isn’t long jump!’) and lays there for a few moments, catching his breath, before pushing himself up to his feet. There’s a little more conversation, then Virgil waves to Patton and jogs over to sit next to him, Roman continuing on his way around the track.

"You beat Roman!” Patton grins as Virgil practically flops backwards and rests his head in the grass for another moment.

"He went easy on me, but yes.” Virgil smiles back; his voice gives away just how parched he is. He eventually props himself up on his elbows and gratefully takes the water bottle offered to him. "You still have music later, right?”

"Yep, I have an hour to go. I just came here to give you something." As Patton rummages through his backpack, Virgil sits up fully with curiosity. "I noticed you haven’t eaten much today, so I got you this. It’s important to refuel.”

He hands him a sandwich, something simple like Virgil always prefers when he does eat. It’s then that he suddenly realises, with a cramp squeezing at his stomach, just how hungry he really is. "Thank you, Pat.”

"It’s no problem, Virge.” Patton presses a quick kiss to his cheek. "With all the sports and the dancing that you do, you probably need to eat more than the rest of us.”

That’s true - in his first year of college he bought an old second-hand fitness watch, just to see if he liked it, and since it was old he couldn’t rely on its accuracy entirely, but the numbers of calories burned every day including respiration were definitely much higher than the usual number he’d expected. By the end of the year, the watch was too old to really function and Virgil had never gotten a replacement since, but his routines haven’t changed very much since then. Even so, he just finds himself not having time to eat. He’ll oversleep a little bit, have some coffee and a small snack and head to his first class, then he may as well run through some of his dance routines between classes when he has an hour or more of free time, and when he’s not dancing or in class he’s likely trying to beat various records on the track field or with other sports equipment. He’s always on the move, always anxious, never resting, not even to replace some of that lost energy.

He always thought that he may not fill out his old clothes as much anymore.

Patton smiles sadly as he watches Virgil finish the entire thing like it’s his first meal in days - then again, perhaps it is. "Eating enough is important, especially when you exercise as much as you do.”

"It is.” Virgil lays back in the grass again, appearing to be in thought for a moment. "Just… I tend to forget. Like, I'm always busy, or I just don’t realise when I'm hungry.”

"Well, it may be helpful to set some reminders for yourself around meal times. Try to listen to your body more - if you’re feeling unfocussed or tired, maybe you need to eat something.” Patton repositions himself so he’s laying on his stomach, then touches his nose to Virgil’s as the smile grows on his face. "If you start ignoring your hunger on purpose, I'm going to have to physically fight you.”

That last comment elicits a fond laugh from Virgil. "Can you fight?”

Patton hums in thought. “I'll get Roman to physically fight you." He then sits up again so he can call out towards the track. "Hey, Roman!”

Their athletic friend perks up at Patton’s calling and swiftly runs over to join them on the grass. "Hey, Patton, what’s up?”

"Can you promise Virgil you’ll physically fight him if he keeps ignoring his hunger?”

Virgil groans exasperatedly, but there’s still a smile on his face at his partner’s antics. He wouldn’t admit it now, but he feels quite a bit better physically after eating something. It could help to remember this moment whenever he’s fatigued or considering running on empty again, so when he and Roman quickly start play-fighting in the name of self-care, with Patton cheering them both on, Virgil finds himself feeling almost better than ever.


	4. Janus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one focusses on janus trying to get virgil to not tire himself out by staying up all night, but there's discussion and mention of cutting in here too (none of it actually happens). again, i hope you guys are out here doing well!!

“Virgil, you are not staying up all night.”

Janus sighs, leaning on the doorframe as some distant church bells somewhere in the city chime midnight. Virgil is sat at his desk, donning his smudge guard, his pen gliding across the tablet screen tirelessly and showing no signs of stopping.

“Virgil.” Janus tries again to get his attention; this time, he’s met with a tired stare. "Is your deadline set for tomorrow?" He waits for a moment before Virgil shakes his head. "Then you have no reason to rush. You’ve had a long day, just try to get some sleep.”

There’s a few seconds in which they stare each other down, but then Virgil finally gives in, saves his files and shuts off the monitor with a sigh, or maybe it’s a yawn. "I wanted to just get it out of the way, not worry about it.”

"Yes, I understand, but you could finish your art at a much higher quality tomorrow if you get some good sleep." The corners of Janus’ lips tilt into a sympathetic frown as he walks over to Virgil’s bed and sits down, patting the spot next to him. "Come here, tell me what’s wrong.”

"But I—“ Virgil blinks confusedly and hesitates for a second but still complies, setting the smudge guard and pen down and moving to sit next to Janus. "How do you know something’s wrong?”

Janus hums nonchalantly. "I think I've spent enough time with you, I can just tell. You seem a little… mentally exhausted.”

“I'm gonna assume you can tell by being a psychology student and not by my outward appearance.” Virgil rubs at his eyes self-consciously, well aware of the dark shadows that are always there, but continues. "I guess it’s been a weird week. On Monday I got startled by some dumb driver in a sports car and nearly cut again but Logan helped me calm down, and later that day Roman told me that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself when I'm dancing and to take a break before I hurt myself again, which— I— I didn’t know I was even doing that. On Tuesday I didn’t do much except go to class, I guess I was feeling a little depressed that day, but then yesterday Roman and I were doing relays together and Patton came to watch. He brought me some food and then I realised just how hungry I was. I keep… realising that maybe I'm hurting myself in more ways than I first thought, and it’s making me anxious, so I was just trying to get other stressors out of the way, like this art project.”

As he’s listening intently to Virgil telling him about the week, Janus remembers those short moments that he’s seen in the past few days - like when Logan and Virgil returned to the dorms before their class was even over and Virgil took a quick nap between then and his dance class. When he returned again with Roman late that night, looking fatigued and dozing off on Roman’s shoulder while they both watched Youtube videos together on the couch. As well as that, while Janus was happy to see Virgil eating a full meal yesterday evening like the rest of the roommates, he did think that it was a little unexpected, and perhaps somebody had encouraged him to do so.

"I suppose me telling you that you look tired wouldn’t help with those anxious feelings, hmm?" He smiles faintly when Virgil shakes his head again. "Realising your unhealthy habits are just the first step to overcoming them. Maybe discovering many of them in a short amount of time is a little overwhelming, but you can work on them one at a time. You still have your timer going, right?”

Virgil reaches for his phone on the corner of the desk and opens it up to the timer; it’s a sobriety timer meant for people trying to quit drinking, but it works as a great ‘days since cutting’ timer as well. "Two months, fourteen days, five hours and thirty-one minutes.”

A look of proudness overcomes Janus’ usually neutral features. "That’s almost two and a half months, you’re doing amazingly. See, all you have to do in regards to trying not to cut again is to remind yourself of how far you’ve come, and to use those other techniques you’ve learned to lessen the urges." He places one arm around Virgil’s back comfortingly. "We can talk about those other habits you have some other time, but for now, it’s time to sleep.”

“I'm not tired, though.” Virgil attempts to protest, but Janus is already standing so he can pull back the bedsheets and wait for him to lie down.

"I can stay with you if you want?”

Virgil seems to think for a moment, fidgeting with his hands, but then sighs and starts to move. "Okay, fine.”

Once the two of them are underneath the heap of blankets and bedsheets that litter Virgil’s bed, Janus reaches to turn off the bedside lamp and then wraps his arms around his friend’s waist from behind so that he’s spooning him. "Just lay here long enough and you’ll feel tired soon." He mumbles into Virgil’s hair.

It feels extremely comfortable for Virgil to lay there with his back pressed against Janus’ chest; he feels the previous anxiety and tension draining from his shoulders and his breathing becomes softer, slower as he relaxes and sinks into the touch. Janus is right, he thinks to himself, sleep should be able to help him concentrate more on his art once he wakes up again tomorrow, or rather, later in the morning, as midnight has already passed. He’s about to question himself on why he hadn’t thought of that before, but then figures that the anxiety had his thought process set on other things.

Hopefully, he can try to feel this relaxed more often, for it only takes another few minutes for him to drift into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just putting it out there that i read every comment on my fics and ahhh you guys are so kind!! tysm for the comments <3333


	5. Remus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cough cough projection time
> 
> i'm so so close to finishing the last chapter and ahh it's a very very long one so i hope you guys are lookin forward to it!!
> 
> just in case, i'll put a tw here for mention of (fake, mechanical) spiders cause i also have arachnophobia and it's not fun fhgjfhgdf

When Remus first saw the bruises on Virgil’s collarbones one day, when he was wearing a looser shirt to deal with the heat and had unknowingly sweated away his concealer, he assumed they were hickeys from Patton and teased him about it until he was told that Patton doesn’t do that kind of thing. His affections don’t go much further than sweet kisses, warm cuddles and pun-infused compliments. So who else could’ve done them? Virgil had playfully told him that it’s a secret, then a few nights later, as Remus pressed ice onto a blossoming of new bruises, he tearily admitted that they’re self-inflicted.

It’s not the habit that Virgil’s most proud of, in fact it took him a while after that night to allow Remus to tell everyone else. Of course, he was met with a mix of shock and sympathy from everybody and has tried not to do it since, but sometimes the frustration over his work just gets to him and he always directs any tension or anger back towards himself. Most of the time it’s with his art - sharp pencils and digital drawing styluses are unsurprisingly easy to bruise with - he’ll be doing his warm up sketches and keep failing to draw a near-perfect circle, or he’ll be already halfway through a drawing and keep making the same mistake over and over on his drawing tablet, or maybe he’ll even be doing it on paper and make a mistake that can’t be taken back with the undo button on his keyboard.

It’s a good thing Remus is stronger than him.

“Virgil!" He catches Virgil’s arm just before he can attack his own shoulder again, firmly pulling it back and taking his pencil from him. "Don’t do that, stormcloud. What’s wrong?”

They’re in an empty art room that they were given permission to use. With both of them being rather socially anxious and preferring to be alone while they work, combined with the easy access to acrylic paints and good-quality scissors, it’s the ideal atmosphere for them to be working on their art pieces together. If only Virgil could regain his focus.

"Sorry, Re." He exhales slowly to calm his suddenly racing heart. "My art just isn’t going how I'd like it to." Scanning the canvas for invisible mistakes, he brings his free hand up and presses at the bruises, wincing at the revived ache.

Remus takes his other hand as well, now holding them both. "Take a couple of deep breaths. It’s going to be okay, you’re doing really good!" While Virgil breathes in, Remus looks over at the canvas and smiles. "I love the colours you’ve chosen! And your paintbrush strokes and pencil sketches are just perfect. See? Your art is amazing, nothing to beat yourself up over.”

Virgil can’t help but smile at all the compliments Remus is sending his way; he feels better already, the urge to bruise completely gone. But even so, there’s still the tiny mistakes that Virgil can never ignore when he looks at his art for long enough. While Remus calls his pencil sketches perfect, Virgil can see the infinitesimal wavers in the straight lines due to his shaky hands. Logan or Janus would explain that it’s to do with how the more you look at your art while you make it, the more details you notice and commit to memory, and while it’s useful to know, Virgil doesn’t exactly like that it’s true.

“Virgil?” Remus’ voice quickly brings him back out of his train of thought. "You still there, cobweb?”

"Oh, yeah, sorry." He smiles sadly and looks back at his own canvas. "I was thinking about the art. I wish I could look at mine as positively as I do with other people’s art.”

Remus observes the expression on Virgil’s face; a little solemn, perhaps because he had narrowly avoided attacking the already sensitive skin that thinly stretches around his shoulders. Though, Remus can’t forget that he’s also had a rough week, as has been explained to him. He softly squeezes Virgil’s hands at regular intervals, suddenly coming up with an idea. "Want me to tell you about the time I filled a high school teacher’s desk drawer with fake mechanical spiders to take your mind off things a little bit?”

An amused snort makes its way out of Virgil. "Oh my gosh, what did the teacher do to you?" Noticing the use of a distraction, his face brightens a little and he picks up a pencil to divide the attention between Remus’ story and his art piece.

"You can probably ask Roman and he’ll remember too.” Remus then goes on to dramatically reenact the tale, making grander and grander hand gestures that has Virgil focussing more on the story than his work, and somehow it allows him to still work over that area that previously had him frustrated and then carry on with the sketch in that corner of the canvas. He has to pause to let his laughter fully subside when Remus gets to the part where he hides behind the classroom door with Roman to see the teacher’s reaction, and then Remus goes right into a different story detailing his and Roman’s shenanigans, how they adopted and raised a cat until it had kittens without their parents ever knowing, or the backstory of why neither of them are technically allowed into Hot Topic anymore.

Virgil makes a mental reminder to ask Roman about these stories later, surprised that he hasn’t been told by him already.

There’s so many stories Remus seemingly has stored up in his brain, just waiting for the opportunity to tell them, that the successful distraction plan takes them well past the time they were planning on leaving. That’s okay, though, because Virgil’s feeling surprisingly satisfied at how his work looks now. Any bad feelings or urge to take it out on himself feel like distant, forgotten whims and all that’s left is the amusement in his eyes as his friend talks and talks about these crazy high school stories that he wishes he was there to witness too.


	6. Virgil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the big big finale chapter! lots of warnings here for cutting, bruises, injuries and scars.
> 
> the feedback on this fic so far has been amazing and i'm so glad that a lot of people read this and comment. even if i don't respond to every comment, i definitely read every single one and smile every time because ahh you guys are so so kind <333 i hope you're all staying safe out there n taking care of yourselves

One tiny thing can really set a lot of regrettable decisions into action.

It doesn’t quite matter what happened, just that Virgil is desperately trying to pry open this disposable shaving razor to alleviate some of the pressure inside his veins that’s building exponentially by the second. He’s not sure if he should be frustrated or happy that it’s next to impossible to dismantle the thing; it’s almost like the manufacturers don’t want people to take the blades out and hurt themselves or others or something.

He leans his forearms against the bathroom sink and lets out a shaky breath, his tears escaping with it. This is stupid, he tells himself in one fleeting moment of reasoning, but he suddenly comes quite close to being able to open the godforsaken razor and any rationale is completely lost on him.

His five other roommates are also home, each probably doing their own thing. Virgil could always go to one of them and see if he could find someone who’s feeling okay enough to help him feel okay too, or just ask for a hug, or even just to sit in the same room as them, because then he at least has a safeguard if he were to give into the urge and try to cut again. However, clouds swirl around inside his skull, blocking his vision, rainfall trickling out of his eyes, and now - now he almost _wants_ to do this, wants to feel the pain.

The now freed piece of metal shines with the reflected light of the ceiling lamp above him. Something’s stopping him from making the first cut, though, like an invisible force. Virgil’s mind is taken back to his conversation with Remus that had started with him grabbing his arm to stop him from bruising his collarbones with his pencil. He almost feels like Remus is stopping him from doing this, too, even though he’s not in the room, or probably even aware of what Virgil’s doing. What would Remus think or say if he could see him right now? Virgil recalls the events of the night Remus found out about his habit like it was only yesterday.

_Virgil winces and clutches his shoulder as the sting subsides at an agonisingly slow rate. He always regrets this immediately after it happens, now that the initial frustration has been replaced by an overwhelming of pain that has tears pricking at his eyes, which momentarily scrunch shut at the feeling of new bruises forming. Soon there’ll be a new blossoming of them to go with the others, in varying stages of healing, some purply-blue, some with a hint of yellowy-green. It doesn’t help that they contrast so well with his skin._

_He trudges out of his room to find an ice pack; he may as well, he tells himself. Besides, he wanted a glass of water anyway. So, he eventually enters the dark kitchen and crouches down, beginning to rummage around in the freezer (with difficulty as he didn’t want to turn on a light and blind himself) until a voice suddenly startles him._

_“Virge, is that you?" It sounds like Remus - of course he’d be up late at night too. Virgil doesn’t have time to hum in response before a bright light stings at his eyelids and he brings his hands up to rub at them. Remus’ hand places itself on the small of Virgil’s back. "What are you looking for in there?”_

_"Ice pack." He replies hoarsely, the reminder that comes with saying it aloud making him aware again of how much it hurts._

_Suddenly, he’s being manoeuvred up to a standing position and then lifted onto the kitchen counter with ease. At last his eyes begin to adjust to the light; the sight of Remus creating a makeshift ice pack with ice cubes and a small dish towel comes into focus. He seems to be examining the bruises peeking out from underneath Virgil’s shirt as he pulls the hair tie from his hair and fastens the ice inside the towel. Then, he sets the ice pack down next to Virgil on the counter and moves to touch the bottom hem of Virgil’s shirt._

_"May I?" He asks with a hint of playfulness; Virgil rolls his eyes with a smile but nods, lifting his arms to allow Remus to remove his shirt and get a better look at the bruises. His face immediately falls to one of concern and he winces empathetically. "What happened here, emo?”_

_Virgil sighs. "It’s about time I tell you, but… don’t laugh when I say it?" He starts to fidget with his hands, but the way Remus’ face softens almost puts him at ease again._

_"I would never, I promise. I'm worried about you, what’s going on?”_

_"Well… they’re self-inflicted.”_

Remembering how Remus grew quiet and looked at him with such sadness in his eyes as he pressed the ice pack to the newest bruises, it breaks Virgil’s heart just a little more than it already feels. He’d hate to see his friend look at him that way again, especially if it’s while treating cuts like the ones he’s about to make.

Then, all of a sudden he feels a tiny bout of tiredness coming on. Are these emotions coming from a lack of sleep? His and Janus’ conversation comes to mind - _‘I suppose me telling you that you look tired wouldn’t help with those anxious feelings, hmm?’._ Virgil reluctantly looks up at the mirror; he does appear exhausted. The shadows under his eyes, even without makeup, are starting to settle into weary, sleep-deprived lines sinking into his skin, and the redness of his eyes accompanied by the dampness of his cheeks only adds to that image. The sorry sight of his face only spurs more tears to fall.

Another memory swims to the front of his mind amongst the clouds and rainfall inside his skull - the one where Janus first started to point out that perhaps he’s not letting himself rest enough.

_They’re both huddled together in the back of the library, Janus working on his history essay and Virgil doing research on various artists. The problem with researching artists, though, is that sometimes it’s extremely difficult to find any biographical information that doesn’t come from one of the sources he’s been specifically instructed not to use, and so he’s been at this task since late last night with only sporadic naps dotted throughout time since. He’s had no deep sleep at all and now that’s what his body is crying out for, pulling his head down to rest on the table and just close his eyes for a few minutes._

_Before he knows what’s happening, though, he’s being prodded out of his slumber._

_“Virgil, c’mon, wake up.” Janus is talking quietly into his ear and pulling at his shoulders to get him to sit up. "I was letting you sleep, but they said if you’re not gonna keep working we have to leave. Let’s go back to the dorms, okay?”_

_"Hmm?" Blinking slowly as the sticky remnants of sleep still hold onto him with its sweet promise of exhaustion relief, Virgil lifts his head to sit up and winces at the stiffness of his neck. "Did I fall asleep?" But Janus doesn’t answer straight away, instead busying himself with packing up Virgil’s things for him. Virgil tries a different question, "How long?”_

_Janus slings both of their backpacks over his shoulder and stands, offering a hand to Virgil. "Around half an hour. Did you get any sleep last night?”_

_Even though they both already know the answer, Virgil takes a few seconds to decide whether or not he should tell the truth, and Janus watches him expectantly as they both make their way out of the library together. Just as they pass through the automatic doors, with the air conditioning just above them ruffling at his hair, Virgil finally answers. "I was doing art research.”_

_"That’s one way of saying no.” Janus huffs, but there’s a softness to his face that reminds Virgil of the caring attitude his friend always has towards him. "You’re going to get a full night’s rest in preparation for tomorrow’s classes, alright? Falling asleep in the library is one thing, but you’ll never hear the end of it if you fall asleep in the lecture hall.”_

_Virgil smiles sleepily, nodding along to Janus’ words. "Okay, if you insist.”_

He would’ve been lying if he’d told Janus he didn’t feel much more well-rested the next day. He remembers feeling more emotionally stable too, and concludes that if he was an emotional mess before, it must’ve been from the lack of sleep. Now, as he watches the disheveled man in the mirror, shaking and quietly crying with irregular, hitched breaths, a passing thought that the exhaustion may be just why he’s about to do this terrible thing crosses his mind, though the contents of the thought are hard to make out as the water in his skull is growing murky.

However, if all of these emotions and urges to _just do it already_ are polluting the water, the spontaneous thought of Patton is a water filter, beginning to clean out all the dirt and murkiness clogging up his ability to think straight. Patton, the one who always offers his support when people are feeling down even though oftentimes he needs that comfort just as much, the one who kisses Virgil on the forehead every morning, the reason why he leaves his room in the first place on days with an empty schedule.

The one who always reminds Virgil of just why he tries not to do this kind of thing anymore.

 _"Oh, Virge, look at the sky!” Patton points up to the sky with one hand and squeezes Virgil’s hand with the other, beaming excitedly at the little drops of snow that fall down to coat the grass at the park they’re walking through. "There’s_ snow _-way I would’ve expected that in a place like this.”_

_Virgil lets himself laugh at the pun, his days of groaning at the word-play to shield his amusement left behind. "This is unexpected for Florida." He muses, watching as the green grass starts to become a sheet of white rather rapidly. Patton shivers just a little beside him; even though he’s wearing his cat hoodie, the material isn’t the most insulating. "Are you cold?” Virgil lets go of Patton’s hand, just to take off his own hoodie and offer it to his partner. "You can wear this over your hoodie, I don’t want you to get cold.”_

_Patton takes the hoodie and smiles as he feels the warmth of the inside of it, but still glances over at Virgil’s short sleeves worriedly. "Are you sure you’ll be okay?”_

_"Yeah, it’s alright, Pat. Besides, you have a singing part for your music class this week. You need your voice intact more than I do, so let’s make sure you don’t get sick.”_

_That logic isn’t incredibly easy to argue with, Patton must admit, so he gives in and pulls the purple hoodie sleeves over his own grey ones. "Okay, if you’re sure." He still takes Virgil’s hand in his own so that they can share the warmth a little more as they walk through the park._

_Eventually they both end up standing together underneath a large tree that hasn’t lost its leaves yet, creating a natural shelter for them to avoid getting more snow in their hair. All the while, they’re making easy conversation and playing off of each other’s comments like usual, until Patton takes Virgil’s warm hands into his own and grows quiet. Virgil’s about to ask what’s wrong, but the sudden embrace that Patton pulls him into makes his breath escape him. While the hoodies feel cold against his skin because of the weather, Virgil can hear Patton’s heartbeat and it fills him with warmth, along with the sensation of his partner’s breath fanning out over his neck in regular intervals. Then, Patton starts to sway just slightly, from side to side, akin to rocking a baby to sleep, a sign that this isn’t some ordinary hug in a passing moment - this one’s emotional, soaked with feeling._

_It takes a few moments for Virgil to put the pieces together. He’d actually forgotten about the partially faded lines that litter his arms, not thinking anything of it when he took off his hoodie, but then remembers that he’s never really told anyone about it, only assuming that people know from when they see him wearing short sleeves and don’t comment on it. Considering how Patton had held his hands, he must’ve seen._

_The hug drags on for some time, but then Patton pulls back, looking just a little teary-eyed. Virgil intertwines his fingers with Patton’s and gazes warmly into his eyes. "Hey, it’s okay. I— those scars are old, I don’t do that anymore. I promise.”_

_A short silence settles over them both until Patton holds out his pinkie. "Pinkie promise?”_

_"Pinkie promise.”_

Thinking about that, even if Virgil has created new scars since in moments like this one, something about the image of Patton’s upset expression makes him want to throw the blades away, go do something else. He can’t hurt his partner like that.

Even so, Virgil can’t help but think of Roman and Logan, the two roommates he’s yet to reminisce about as he continues to fiddle with the piece of metal, not quite letting go yet. Why can’t he let go? A quick mental assessment of himself just shows that the urges still haven’t passed - this is getting tiring, he thinks to himself. Though, if he were to think about it in a more optimistic light, these reasons and memories he keeps thinking about are still clearing away the water in his head, still slowly dripping out of his eyes but less muddy and opaque.

_After a one-night hospital stay to fix up Virgil’s broken ankle, Roman was the one who’d volunteered to collect him, aware that having everyone there all at once would overwhelm their injured friend. So, when Virgil gazes passively at the cast on his ankle as he sits on the edge of the hospital bed, still a little out of it from the intense painkillers he’s been on, he almost doesn’t register the presence of Roman finally walking into the room, but when he does, a small blossoming of happiness is felt in his heart._

_"Hey there, Thundercloud.” Roman speaks with a soft tone, crouching in front of the bed so that they can wrap their arms around each other, Virgil missing those warm hugs and touches, Roman just happy to see that Virgil’s not in so much pain anymore. He’s not sure if he can get the memory of that injury, the look of it, the screams, out of his head. "You can come home now. I've brought you a change of clothes, okay?”_

_It does take some effort to get Virgil into his clothes, both with the cast and his hazy state, but luckily Roman had thought ahead and brought only loose clothes that would provide minimal trouble. Then, the next thing that Virgil’s processing is Roman’s smooth voice, filling him in on how everyone’s been since he got admitted to the hospital, accompanied by the click of the crutches that help him along down the hospital halls, and then the rain-stained streets._

_The rest of the day also goes by quite fuzzily, with everyone else greeting him at the door, giving him hugs, then allowing him to rest when they notice how his responses and movements are still slow with fatigue. Part of him still hasn’t even processed that he has a broken ankle._

_It’s just a couple of days later, when he’s relaxing in Roman’s arms on the couch with hands carding through his hair, that it finally hits him. He’s been crying fairly often since coming home, mostly from the pain that takes a while to go away before the prescription painkillers kick in and also the slight drowsiness and general loopy feelings that come as side-effects to the medication. So, when his breathing suddenly hitches and the tears start to fall from his eyes, he hears Roman coo quietly and feels him move one hand away from his hair to rest on his cheek._

_"What’s the matter, Virgil?”_

_Virgil looks up at Roman’s soft expression and barely holds back a sob as his anxiety starts to build, clutching at his heart. "What if I can’t dance again?”_

_Roman’s face also grows anxious, but just for a moment before it morphs into a sad smile. "The doctor said that if you follow his instructions, it’s entirely possible for you to recover. And you’re doing wonderfully at that, aren’t you?” Virgil nods, sniffling as he spares a glance at his cast, covered in signatures and messages from his friends, even some from the people in his dance and sports classes. "You’ll be dancing with us again in no time. Just remember to avoid breaking any more bones in the future, yes?”_

_Despite the tears that won’t stop flowing for a while after this, possibly for hours, Virgil nods with a quiet laugh. "I will.”_

Part of that promise to not injure himself again would include avoiding working himself to exhaustion and not attempting the more dangerous moves while he’s tired, which he’s definitely been working on (even though Roman had to bring him home way later than they were intending to stay out earlier this week, but it’s an improvement from the past). Now, on some days, Virgil can forget he ever had a broken bone in the first place with how enthusiastic he is to hit the track field and the dance studio again, returning to his athletic activities again and again like clockwork. It took all the support from his friends, especially Roman, to bring him to this point.

And, at last, the thought of Logan swims into Virgil’s head and everything becomes just a little clearer, almost back to the way it should be. His heart rate has slowed to a regular kind of calm at this point and he still hasn’t made any cuts, even after standing here for so, so long, but it may just be one last memory involving Logan that could make him put the blade down. In fact, when he recalls that memory, the setting doesn’t even change. He’s still here. The only thing that’s different is the state of his arms.

_Blood. Blood, everywhere, staining the perfectly white sink and draining out of him along with his focus on reality; not a life-threatening amount, but certainly enough to freak himself out a little. So, when Logan enters the bathroom and physically startles at the sight, Virgil lets himself be guided by him, lets him clean up the blood, rub stinging alcohol into his wounds and bandage up his arms. Still a little hazy and not fully processing what he’s done, his voice just carries itself through the air, simply delivered if not with a delay when Logan tries to ground him by asking him questions._

_The next moment he can really ground himself in is when he finds himself in Logan’s bed, his friend’s arm draped loosely over his waist from behind, touching gently at the bandages. And while Virgil can’t see Logan’s face, he can hear the sounds of crying as clear as day._

_Crying? At this point in their friendship, Virgil’s never seen Logan looking extremely emotionally charged, never mind crying, so he tries to shuffle his body to look at Logan but he’s stopped by another hand in his hair, stroking through it, making Virgil stay still._

_Eventually, though, Virgil finds his voice returning enough for him to speak. "Are you okay?" He asks the wall just a short distance away from his nose, and Logan breathes a laugh through a quiet string of sobs._

_"That question should be directed to you, not me." His voice sounds hoarse and wavers with his words, but then Virgil hears him attempting to take a deep breath. "You’d been in the bathroom for so long, I was just going to check up on you, and…” Logan sighs shakily. "Why do you do it?”_

_It takes a moment for Virgil to think about it before he can respond. Why_ does _he do it? "I… I just— sometimes I get really anxious, too anxious, and the pain… it stops my brain from floating away. Keeps me grounded. I also feel like I deserve it for having a messed up brain.”_

_He can really imagine Logan’s face, concerned, upset as the arm around his waist moves to Virgil’s face, prompting him to move from his side to his back so they can make eye contact. “Virgil, you don’t deserve any of the harm you bring upon yourself. There are much better ways to keep yourself grounded when you’re anxious too, just… please, try not to give into the urges to hurt yourself if they arise again. You’re really strong, you know that?" By this point, Logan’s tears are flowing freely down his face, and at some point Virgil had begun to cry too, but there’s no shame coming from either of them. Virgil nods and snivels, almost sobbing as Logan lets one of his rarer, genuine smiles show. “I'll always be here for you. I don’t care what I may be in the middle of, or what time it is, whether it’s day or night, even if I'm in the middle of a class, just tell me if you’re ever wanting to cut again and I'll give you whatever it is you need to calm down.”_

_Virgil just looks into Logan’s eyes for a sweet moment, then reaches up to wrap his bandaged arms around him, the two of them holding each other close for eternities. "I will. I promise, Logan, I will.”_

The water is perfectly clear.

Now simply reduced to tired, breathy sobs, Virgil throws his blades into the toilet along with the other smaller parts of the razor and flushes them away, out of his reach forever. The simple motions feel unexpectedly freeing and empowering, knowing that this is the first time he’s been able to stop himself, all by himself. That’s not stopping the tears, though, and Virgil remembers Logan’s words: _‘I'll always be here for you’_.

After calming himself down enough to leave the bathroom, he quietly shuffles down the hall and into the open-plan common room-combined-kitchen space, where all of his friends are dispersed about. Roman and Remus are arguing over some board game on the floor while Logan moderates the discussion from the couch with the rules booklet in his hands, and Patton and Janus are talking and sharing wine in the kitchen. Upon seeing Virgil walk in, completely dishevelled, hair fallen in his bloodshot eyes and tears still not dried, the twins share a concerned look and are about to stand and ask if he’s okay, but Virgil just gives them a teary smile and walks over to the couch, nudging Logan’s arms up so he can sit in his lap with the arms holding the booklet looped around him.

"Are you okay, Virgil?” Logan looks a little surprised but doesn’t protest the extra weight in his lap, instead setting the booklet aside and hugging Virgil closer to his chest.

Virgil hums contentedly and buries his nose into Logan’s shirt. "I will be.”

There’s not much time for Logan to try to decode that answer before the twins are abandoning the game on the floor and joining them on the couch, Roman running his hand up and down Virgil’s arm soothingly while Remus plays with his hair. Soon enough, Patton and Janus are also abandoning their wine glasses so they can come over and see what’s going on. After some shuffling about, Virgil is now still sat in Logan’s lap but with his legs laid across Patton’s, Roman’s hands in his hair from the other side of Logan, and Remus and Janus sat on the floor but still providing their own comfort, holding Virgil’s hands so that he feels safe and secure.

All of the anguish, the anxiety, the fear, it all completely melts away as he’s finally exhausted his supply of water filling his skull. The tear tracks dry away to reveal contentment in his eyes, happiness at all the cuddles from his chosen family, them all making conversation around him, him simply listening in and occasionally inputting his short comments and laughing at the various antics going on, mostly from Roman and Remus.

Eventually he will explain what happened, receive hugs and forehead kisses and different coloured hearts drawn on his arm so that he can look at them and remember who he’s staying clean for. There’s an eloquently drawn, large red heart with extra little stars around it and the letter ‘R’ written inside it in cursive, a similar one in green but with a moustache drawn on it and the letter ‘R’ written in bubble writing, a light blue heart with paw prints and smiley faces all around, a dark blue heart with Virgil’s zodiac constellation drawn inside, a yellow heart simply drawn with the words ‘stay strong’ inside with neat writing, and finally, a purple one with little spiders and cobweb designs inside, drawn by himself. A reminder that he’s doing this for himself just as much as his friends.

A reminder that, even after all that’s happened this week and today, there’s still a sobriety timer on his phone ticking away at two and a half months.

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish dialogue translations for chapter 1
> 
> "¿Puedo usar tu sacapuntas, por favor?" - "Can I use your sharpener, please?"
> 
> “Sí. ¿No tienes el tuyo?” - "Yes. You don't have yours?"
> 
> "No, lo perdí. Pienso que Roman lo robó.” - "No, I lost it. I think Roman stole it."
> 
> “Definitivamente. Necesito dormir.” - “Definitely. I need to sleep.”
> 
> (tysm to the user who suggested the edit to the dialogue, i’ve changed up the text <33)


End file.
